


having history

by bluhen



Category: Fire Emblem Echoes: Mou Hitori no Eiyuu Ou | Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Scars, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2019-03-25 13:49:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13836066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluhen/pseuds/bluhen
Summary: of scars, of the past, of now and your warmth.(lazy kisses lead to python doing some thinking, for once, and forsyth worries, as always)





	having history

**Author's Note:**

> hey gamers its me, saplord86, and, [trips and falls over my 50 fluffy cuddling fics and doesnt get up]

It was quiet, and there was only the light of a lantern illuminating the tent, and they were alone.

It wasn't terribly often they got to be intimate outside of these times - they valued it as much as they could. Which is to say, most nights they slept with Forsyths arms looped around Pythons waist and his face nuzzled into his collar, affectionate words muttered into his neck as they were tangled together. (forsyth would be the one to break it in the morning despite how much he loves being like that. light cracks through the seams of the tent and he’s up, to pythons dismay.)

Tonight, they got undressed, and then distracted. They couldn't afford to go much further than sleepy kisses at the moment, (and they were tired, and strained - todays fight hadn't been a particularly kind one to either of them) but neither of them wanted to. Forsyth relished the way Python smiled now - content and gentle, not coy as usual. (he loved all of his smiles, really, but knowing python was genuinely happy made his heart flutter and swell more than most things in life.)

Pythons hands came to rest on either of Forsyths arms, lithe but calloused fingers trailing absently over his muscles. His fingertips came to a scar across his bicep, and he hummed.

“I think I remember this one.” Python murmurs. Forsyth brings his hand to cover Pythons. “That's a battle scar, innit? I think it's from a lance.”

Forsyth groans at the memory. “Yes, it was. I have to say, that one was one of the worst of them.” 

Python raises his eyebrows. “Really now?” His hand escapes Forsyths, and goes to slowly rubbing across the scar with his thumb instead. Forsyth rests his head on Pythons own.

“Certainly. I can't say I like being bedridden  _ and _ unable to use my good arm to support myself.” Python chuckles.

His hands drift to his chest. He'd seen it plenty of times, but still… he was always somewhat amazed at how bulky his friend (he snorts inwardly at that, but  _ boyfriend _ sounds so, so - ) had become over the years. He had always been strong, sure, but now it  _ showed _ . 

He couldn't say he didn't enjoy it. 

In any case. Forsyths chest was no exception to the scars running jagged across his skin. (likely no part of him was.) He didn't remember most of these, though, and they're almost like new things entirely to him. 

He did recognize some, however - and that included two symmetrical scars across either side of his chest, ones that were mirrored on his own. Forsyth didn't seem to mind his that much, says something like “they blend in with the rest of them” so he doesn't pay them much mind, and neither does anyone else.

(and really, he was right - he had so many scars scattered across his chest that if it weren’t for how deliberate these looked, they would be no different from any other scars he’d gotten.)

For Python, however, they felt ugly. Not that he could bring himself to get  _ too _ torn up about it, (and it wasn't like he was getting shirtless like this in front of anyone other than Forsyth and maybe Lukas, neither of whom would care anyway) but it still felt  _ wrong _ somehow. He would gladly say (truthfully so) that he much preferred some scars over the alternative, but…  _ Ugh _ . They were messy and unnatural and made him feel malformed or something -

And Forsyth kisses him, softly, and most of his thoughts melt away with the hand winding through his hair.

“Sorry.” He says, a laugh in his voice. Forsyth kisses his hand.

“You already know you needn't say that.” 

Python shrugs, grunts. Forsyth kisses his cheek and he smiles again.

“If you're done ogling me, I'd like to do something too.” He says, and Python cocks an eyebrow at him skeptically.

“And what would that be, Sir Forsyth?” He asks, playful lilt in his voice, and feels a bit too proud when Forsyths ears light up. 

Forsyth takes Pythons hand and kisses him again. Everything feels warm, all soft and fluttery. It's ridiculous, it’s like they’re dumb teenagers again, it’s wonderful. “I want to show you how much of you I love.” Forsyth proclaims, and Python almost breaks out into a laugh at how cheesy and  _ very _ Forsyth it is.

However, because it's Forsyth, his whole body seems to heat up, and he just smiles back at the determined face embracing him. With that, Forsyth pushes him downwards with a gentle hand on his stomach, and Python complies. He's leaving kisses all over him, now, up from his stomach, his chest, his collar, and Python feels like his chest is going to burst.

“You big doofy  _ sap _ ,” he laughs, and Forsyth kisses him in return.

“I'm only being genuine.”

“I  _ know _ you are, and it's ridiculous.  _ You're _ ridiculous.” Forsyth just nestles against his chest. Python remembers something he murmured when they were young into his stomach about feeling his heartbeat.

“If I'm ridiculous for loving you, then certainly, I'm as ludicrous as they come.”

Python lets his head fall back onto the cot, and he stares up at the ceiling. “There's definitely some truth in that…” 

Forsyth swats him. Python just titters. His hand wanders to Forsyths head, and he pets his hair. It’s calm, and it’s nice. It also allows Python to _ think _ more, which isn’t as nice.

When they were kids, they both decided at around the same time. Admittedly, now he looked back on the decision to make his name “Python” and thought it was kind of silly. But it stuck, and it was  _ his, _ and that was what mattered. (Plus, when he'd proudly announced that he was now  _ Python, _ and how impressed Forsyth had been with how utterly  _ cool _ that was in his little ten-year-old eyes, he couldn't just  _ drop _ it.)

Forsyth had told him that he was Forsyth, and at the time he was almost disappointed. (Why isn't it somethin’ cool? _ But it IS cool, Python! It sounds like the name of a real strong knight!  _ If you say so.) But that, too, was uniquely Forsyth, and there wasn't anything he would do to change it.

Things were fine, for the most part - when they were alone they could say whatever they wanted. They were too young for anyone to question it, anyway. They said they were boys, and with no parents to “correct” them they were right.

It wasn't always that easy. Especially when they got older. Forsyth had always been lucky - he had a strong face, he trained hard and was so broad hardly anyone would question him. Not only that, but he was so  _ loud _ that he got to train his voice more. Python, just… Python just didn't care enough. He wanted things to change, but he didn't want all of the work that came with it. Something Forsyth (still now) scolded him for. 

It wasn't like it mattered. He had always followed. He didn't mind. And it didn't matter now - he was unmistakably himself now, no one could tell him otherwise, and it was  _ good _ .

This train of thought is derailed suddenly from the past to the present when Forsyth starts planting kisses over his stomach again. It fills it with butterflies. Python feels as if Forsyth might be able to feel them through his skin if he keeps it up.

It takes him a moment to realize that he's trailing over a ragged scar spanning across his midriff. “You like that one or somethin’?” He asks, scooting up a bit on the bed to sit up more. Forsyth follows.

“I can't say I  _ like _ it… Looking at it just reminds me of how much pain you were in, how worried I was about you. It's not a pleasant memory.” He worries his lip, a cute little nervous habit of his Python’s noticed over the years.

Of course, Python remembers. A big gash through his stomach, it almost made him sick to think about it. He stumbled back in time for the blade not to go deep enough to kill him, but it sure was a hellish recovery time. Needless to say, Forsyth barely left his side the whole time. He remembered seeing him through bleary eyes, squeezing his hand too tight and most likely crying. Yeah, “not a pleasant memory” was a bit of an understatement. 

“It's fine now, Fors,” he says, taking Forsyths hand and clumsily bringing it to his cheek in an attempt to reassure him. “That was ages ago.”

Forsyth stares at him, then down at his stomach again. His fingers trace the scar as his lips did before. “And if something like that happens again?”

“It won't.”

“You don't know that. If I'm not there to protect you?”

“Forsyth.” 

Forsyth looks up at him again.

“It's fine.  _ I’m _ fine.” Python kisses the back of the hand he's holding, and Forsyth sighs.

“I worry about you. You slack in battle like that and - and maybe one time the sword won't miss. Maybe one time an arrow will strike right through you and I - “ 

Python clicks his tongue. “You gotta stop all that.” He leans up to kiss Forsyths cheek, and notes the visible relax of his muscles as he does so. “You're such a worrywart.”

“For good reason.”

“I wouldn't have you any other way.”

After what seems like ages longer than it is, they end up with Python almost trapped in Forsyths strong hold in the cot. Forsyth is warm, like his body burned with the same fire he had in his heart. It was pleasant, and Python had to say, infinitely more comfortable than the cot alone.

(which was why they shared most nights anyway. forsyth felt comforted knowing python was safe, and python got a big soft heater. it was a pretty good deal.)

Forsyth had them up by sunrise, as usual. Today, however, Python came out, sluggish as he was, to view it with him.

It was the same sun, always would be. The same one to rise over their old village, the same one to rise over the two of them then, and even now, different as they were, as everything was. Python chuckles and it earns him a curious look from Forsyth.

He got a strange bubbly feeling in his chest thinking about how far they'd come. Even if he didn't know where they were going, it was… Yeesh. This was ridiculous, it wasn't like him to get sentimental. Forsyth must be rubbing off on him, he thinks.

Forsyth places a gentle hand on his shoulder and tells him it's time to start the day. The colors of the sunrise look stunning on him, Python thinks, before yawning and following him back toward the tents to get busy (or try to sneak some extra minutes in.)

Maybe he didn't have dreams like Forsyth, but the present was plenty fine. He had no need for them like this, as far as he was concerned.

**Author's Note:**

> i swear i started this with the intention for the stuff about them being trans not to take up so much of it but uh. whoopsie daisy
> 
> anyway i love these two thanks


End file.
